


Confrontations

by manicmanner



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicmanner/pseuds/manicmanner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively named "Don't Bring Barry into This, Oliver"</p>
<p>In which Felicity calls Oliver out on his jealousy issues and something she doesn't expect happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confrontations

**Author's Note:**

> I need to pick better titles.
> 
> But, enjoy!

“So, Barry.”

“Yes,” Felicity said, flipping the cover of her tablet closed with a sharp slap, “Barry.” The blonde spun in her chair to see Oliver lurking on the edge of his training area. He had stripped off the shirt he’d been wearing earlier, letting Felicity get an eyeful of his physique. Which wasn’t that uncommon, all things considered, but the sight was always nice. Although she had an idea as to why he’d been doing her favorite exercise for the past half hour. 

She wasn’t going to fall for it. Nope. Not today.

“You know, I don’t appreciate you harassing Barry. There was no reason for it,” she accused, jabbing a finger at him angrily.

Oliver looked surprised at the outburst, and she could see even from where she was that he was doing the thing with his jaw. She’d noticed that he quite literally bit back his words on occasion. It just added fuel to the fire.

She got up and stomped over to him. “An explanation. Now, please. You’ve got something to say, I can tell, and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t act like a child about this. Because it isn’t even about him, right? Tell me I’m wrong.”

He hadn’t said anything by the time she was right in his personal space. Even in her three-inch heels she was nowhere close to his six foot one height, so she settled for glowering at him with her hands on her hips. The stance let him see her frustration, and also prevented her (hopefully) from doing anything she’d regret later.

Truth was, Felicity Smoak was done with this thing between them, whatever it was. She hadn’t quite felt this with anyone else, not even her exes. This tension, this dizzying desire to touch him the way she wanted to, the need to just talk to Oliver Queen. And he had told her, in his Oliver Queen way, that he wanted that too. He acknowledged it, and then told her he couldn’t. Because of justice.

And when she decided to look elsewhere, Oliver acted like a—a jealous boyfriend.

She was having a hard time holding onto her anger, but she wasn’t going to let this slide. It normally took a lot more to get her this upset, but she hadn’t had any time to decompress. When she’d told Barry she spent all of her time here, with Oliver, she hadn’t been kidding. She could usually dive into a new show or a book and escape from the world at large for a bit, but Oliver was a different kind of demanding. His mission asked her to give up creature comforts. And it was (becoming, anyways) a good cause, so she had stayed. He was a good cause, although he didn’t always believe it. 

His expression was a safe blank, which was the thing she was clinging to at this point. The silence stretched out and she felt her aggressive stance slacken with a fatigue that was more emotional than physical. “Just,” she started. She sighed, reaching up to put her hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently. “Talk to me. Please?”

With her hands on his shoulders she could feel him loosen up as well. Maybe I’m not the only one wound up over this, she thought. She wished the thought made her feel better. He looked at a point behind her when he finally spoke. “I just. Think that you could do better.”

The words were soft, laced with a hint of regret. When Oliver spoke to her these days, that wasn’t unusual, which made her heart ache a bit for him. The one time that hadn’t been the case was when he’d killed the Count.

Felicity bit her lip, not worrying about the potential for lipstick smudging. “Like you?”

He took a sharp intake of breath through his nose. “Definitely not like me. Felicity--”

“We’ve talked about this,” she finished, “but we didn’t, not really.” She waited for me to look at her, which took a moment. He looked hesitant. “This may not be the answer I want to hear, but. Do you trust me, Oliver?”

She watched as his mouth opened, then closed again. And then, “Of course.”

“How much? I mean, I know you trust me with your double life deal, but --“

Oliver grabbed her hands and placed them on his neck. She wasn’t quite sure how to articulate what the gesture meant, but she knew it was a Big Deal. “O-Okay. Well, now that we’ve established that, maybe we can get back to talking about feelings. One of your favorite things, I know—“

Oliver’s lips against the corner of her mouth stopped her.

It wasn’t the first kiss that Felicity had been expecting. She had imagined passionate ones over a bottle of wine, desperate ones after a long fight, sweet ones to punctuate a point. But this one? It was very Oliver, in a strange way; chaste, sure of its singular purpose but hesitant about the broader implications. Her hands at his neck let her feel his pulse racing (like hers was now.) He hadn’t pulled back far, so she could feel his warm breath fanning over her check. Felicity craned her neck a bit to see his wide eyes.

“If you think finally breaking the ice is going to get you out of talking about things, you’re hilarious.” He froze and she leaned in to kiss him. Not the best angle, but a little adjusting fixed it. Felicity’s hands curled at the back of his neck, keeping her there with her. She pulled back for a moment. “But we’ll talk later. Kissing now.”

He didn’t say anything to that, didn’t laugh, but when she pulled him back in she could feel the tiniest of smiles on his lips, which made her smile in return.


End file.
